The Maiden’s Heart (The Chess Game Of Love)
Poem By Michael Fischer
The battle royal for the maiden’s heart
Breaks out in the cool June night.
The pitied bachelors-at-arms,
Fall one by one, despite their might.
It is quite the shame really,
To see the cut-and-thrust unfold.
The maiden’s heart, growing weary,
Is a nugget of glorified gold.
The maiden is not a jillet,
But rather a hopeless romantic.
And like a candle burning to the wick,
She hasn’t much more to give.
But the determined knights roar on,
Dismissing their woeful spirits,
Unbeknownst to their fate as pawns,
In the maleficent chess game of love.